


Hearts Of Passion

by AwkwardBlueFish



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman and Robin, DC - Fandom, Poison Ivy (Comics), Red Hood - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Jason Todd is Robin, Not beta read we die like Jason, Pamela Isley emotionally adopts a boy, Pamela Isley is a good person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28906236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardBlueFish/pseuds/AwkwardBlueFish
Summary: Pamela Isley didn't know what to expect when she felt someone else in her orchard. She isn't expecting a skinny kid dressed up as Robin, picking fruit from her trees without a care in the world. He's an interesting Sapling, that was for sure.
Relationships: Pamela Isley & Jason Todd
Comments: 11
Kudos: 138





	Hearts Of Passion

**Author's Note:**

> Aunt Isley is best Isley

Pamela Isley didn’t know what she was expecting when that distant tug in the back of her mind caught her attention. Someone was in her orchard and that someone was shifting through her garden, through her mind.

Not many people knew that the plants Pamela grew were a part of her. They were attached to her, to her mind and to her very _being_. She felt them grow, felt them live. She also _felt_ _them_ _die_. It was never a pleasant experience, and she doubts it ever would be. But now someone was in her orchard, in her garden. They trekked along the grass, boots scuffing at the back of her mind. They weren’t hurting her plants but there was _always_ the possibility. Blood red hair brushes her shoulder as she cocks her head to the side, lips pressing together in a purse as her eyelids hide her irises in a wary slit. Her plants, and therefore her, wanted to investigate, to ease that twitch of curiosity thrumming in their shared veins. What on Earth was this person doing?

Very few people trekked through the groves of Robinson Park. It was common knowledge that Pamela Isley, no, _Poison Ivy_ resided among the vines and moss at the depth of the parks. The only ones that willingly entered Ivy’s mangrove were Harleen and Selina, the two woman Isley has reluctantly grown attached to throughout the years. There were two other visitors her garden has grown familiar with, two which were _not_ welcome but seemed to welcome themselves in either way. Batman and Robin.

Herleen, the idiotic woman, was currently in Arkham. The joker had once again twisted her thoughts, manipulating the blonde in such a way that Harley felt like she had no free will, felt like she couldn’t disobey her puddin’. Isley wasn’t happy, far from it. Despite being a psychiatrist Harley could never seem to pick apart that _things_ mind enough to understand he was _using_ her. He didn’t love her and he never would. Not like she could. If Joker ever came within the range of her and her plants, Ivy would _choke_ him.

Selina and herself were planning to get Harleen out. Normally they wouldn’t go near Arkham with a ten foot pole, _but_ Harleen was family and right now she was being exploited by a man that wanted nothing but chaos and destruction. They had to get her out, to help her. It would take a while and Harley would go through relapses but she was family, their friend, so they would try. For her.

Her mind tugs, pulling in the back of her brain. Her plants were curious, thrumming with energy. The _need_ to _know_ , to _touch_ , to _understand_ flowed through the link with such a searing intensity that Isley felt her pulse buzz and heighten in response. It was clear to her now that this being wasn’t here to hurt her babies, they were searching for something, _exploring_. Interesting. She lets the vines tug at her mind, their desire to investigate just as intense as her own.

She hums softly, the sound bubbling in her throat and echoing quietly around her. Each step she took were careful but graceful as she follows the tugging on her mind, letting the ebb pull her to the source. Flowers curl around her ankles, a soft sensation enough to tickle at her skin, vines brushing along her collar bone in a warm greeting before retreating, blending in with their own kind. Her babies part for her, green leaves tickling her cheeks as they make an opening for her, a door to the source of their excitement today.

A boy, young and far too skinny and dressed in familiar colours stare up at her, white lenses wide and muscles coiled. This was Robin but the small sapling was new, smaller than the first. It seems Batman has gotten another flower to blossom in his slowly but surely growing garden. Interesting indeed.

A vine curls around her wrists, cold leathery skin reassuring. Ivy doesn’t move, watching the boy with interest. The young sapling had been careful with her babies as he tugged fresh juicy fruit from her trees. Pamela liked this one already. The other Robin was far too energetic, not seeming to care for the babies that provided life to their world. Sure, the first sapling didn’t seek out to hurt her plants, only when he deemed it necessary, therefore when Poison Ivy was using her babies for revenge against the chemical companies. Still, he _had_ hurt her babies so maybe Isley was being bias.

“Those are my fruit young Sapling.” She waves her palm, the vine slithering away from her wrist to wrap around the boys’ basket. An indignant shout escapes the boys lips but Ivy has to give him credit when its due, he doesn’t go after the basket.

The vine places the wooden basket down by her feet. Cherry red apples shimmer under her gaze, as well as blood red tomatoes. What on earth was the young sapling doing?

“You may control the plants but that doesn’t mean you own them!” Robin grumbles, lips twitching into a frown. The boys shoulders were tense, arms crossed tight to his chest. A barrier made instinctively between them, covering his heart as well as other vital organs. _Smart_. He was subtly defensive, as if to not to trigger her. Now that was _interesting_. Not that it would do much if Isley wanted to attack.

Isley chuckles, curiosity peaked as she lowers herself to her knees. She reaches into the basket, plucks out a tomato that sinks into her palm. Ripe and just perfect to be eaten. But the boy wasn’t eating, he was _collecting_. “Oh contrary little sapling. You are right, I do not own these babies or control them. I protect them and they _let_ me. Now would you like to tell me why you’re collecting fruit from _my_ garden?”

Robin frowns, face flushing red, a stark contrast to the black domino resting along his cheekbones. A foot begins to bounce and Isley watches the boy flounder with cool green eyes, seeing his limbs lock up in a freeze, sees his chest raise in slow controlled breaths. He was trying to get _control_ of his anxiety; he _was_ a smart one. He sure did hide his emotions better than the first one, but he was still a _child_ and they were as plain to read as an open picture book. Isley lets him think, rearranging the fruit to prevent bruising. No need to bruise perfectly good food because of the packaging.

“And I should tell you why?” The boy grumbles, a chin jutting out and arms tightening around his chest. Isley snorts softly to herself, understanding the kids’ wariness but finding it amusing all the same. Unlike what the media likes to portray, Isley _does not_ attack innocents, especially children. The first Boy Wonder however hadn’t left her too much of a choice. Its survival of the fittest in Gotham and there was no way she was being sent back to Arkham simply because she wanted to protect and grow her babies. She made sure to never seriously harm the older Robin though. Despite his treatment to her babies, he still _managed_ to wiggle a way into her green heart.

“I’m just curious sapling,” she continues to kneel, willing moss to grow beneath her. There, now that was much more comfortable. “If you have a good reason, I’ll let you take the fruit home. I don’t just let greedy little children take my freshly grown produce only to _waste_ them.”

The boy bristles, shoulders tensing in anger. The arms tighten before throwing down to his side, foot flattening the grass beneath his pixie boots in the stomp of anger. Ivy was expecting his defiance but she assumed it would be on his _own_ behalf. But that wasn’t the case. Robin was angered over someone else’s behalf. Interesting.

“The kids in crime alley aren’t greedy little children!” He roars, words laced in that familiar Gotham drawl Ivy has gotten used to since moving here from Seattle. “They’re just trying to survive! They’ve been left on the streets to die and without nutrients in their systems it’ll be sooner rather than later! They are the _farthest_ thing from greedy when referring to fuckin’ food! _Yes,_ they _steal_ , yes they might be pests but it’s not like food is handed to them on a silver platter like the majority of the people in this selfish city!”

Ivy hums, throat vibrating as a smile pulls at her glossed lips. She stands up, gripping the basket handle as she goes. Robin goes stiff, attempting to cool his features from his righteous fury. It doesn’t quite work but the effort was valiant if nothing else.

“That’s quite a statement little one. A statement I’d have to agree on,” Robins jaw drops and Pamela chuckles, a familiar warmth bubbling in her stomach. She was getting fond of people far too easily these days. “You have passion in this subject so I guess asking your opinion on an upcoming project of mine would be best.”

“What project?” Robin growls and Ivy’s smile goes a little less mischievous and a little more warm. She wasn’t only passionate about plants after all.

She strides forwards, makes her form lax. She didn’t want to frighten the child; she was not about to harm him. Robin still tenses and Pamela can feel his gaze making holes through her body. “I’ve been thinking of this little project for a while now. Of course, if I just begun it without consulting with a trusting authority then it would be a mere waste. I wish to grow fruit and vegetables in crime alley. Of course, that’s only the beginning, I hope to grow food for anyone in need in Gotham where they have free access.”

Isley meets his whiteouts in a gaze, knows the boy is assessing her. His shoulders are tense, muscles once again coiled but he doesn’t run. He doesn’t attack either. He’s interested, hope taught in his form. But he won’t bite, not yet. If he had Pamela would call Batman herself, demanding the boy to be put under more training. To not trust so easily, not without all the details. This sapling was a _bright_ one.

“What do you get out of it?” The kid demands, once again coming in defence to protect the street kids. Interesting. There just _had_ to be some history there. No one was protective of street kids, not unless they were one, had been one or had enough compassion and sympathy that just did not belong in Gotham.

Isley hums, a small smile twisting at her strawberry coated lips. she would have to dig into that later. “What do I gain hmm? I gain nothing. Nothing but being relieved at not seeing children die, to see kids fight over a mouldy piece of bread. If I’m lucky, I’ll also be able to see these children smile, live like the children they are. But I cannot do that by myself.”

Robin doesn’t take the basket, not yet, but Isley can see his form relaxing, melting at her words. He wants this to, with a burning passion that Isley feels towards plant life. It was important to this boy. There was definitely some history there that Isley was just dying to find out. Later though. Right now, was a chance to put her long waiting plan to action. A chance to put her gifts to good, to use her powers in a way the was seen as socially acceptable. There was a need within her that never seem to abate, the need for acceptance. This need couldn’t just be filled by her babies, no matter how hard they tried.

“Why not?” It’s snapped out, words meaning to be harsh but Isley smiles. He couldn’t quite be menacing when the hope in his voice seemed to outshine even the sun. _Cute_.

“People would stop me. They would believe I was up to something, that I plan on poisoning innocent children or wanted something in exchange. The police would blow up my babies, maybe even arrest some street kids on the way if they were near. Batman would cut up my babies, arrest me too most likely. Despite the medias propaganda, I do truly wish to help.”

Robin’s expression had lifted, lightening during Isley’s small speech. The frown had tugged up, not quite a smile but definitely not a frown either. His head had tilted, much like a curious puppy as she talked, relaxing in an open body posture. He wasn’t tense, wasn’t in defence. He was completely curious, interested. _Eager_ almost.

“To help plants,” Robin points out and Isley smiles.

“They’re one in the same, are they not? I wish to help plants to help people. I wish to help plants to help the Earth. Plants are being killed off and so are the oxygen supplies, the food. Plants are what I’m passionate about but they lead into so many _other_ things.” Isley admits. She always wanted to help people and plants could do that. Humans were too dense to make sense of it, however.

Robin gazes at her, past her walls and her crimes. It was like being truly _seen_ for the first time, by someone other than Harleen and Selina. It was frightening but it also felt undeniably _good_.

“You really mean it don’t you? You just want to help.” Robin’s expression is open, cheeks flushed and lips parted. He gazed up at Isley in awe, as if she were a one of a kind. She almost felt _embarrassed_. The kids shakes his head, a grin full of teeth. A smile, full of childish wonder nearly blinds her as he takes the basket from her outstretched palm. “Next time maybe don’t attack big companies? It might do some good for your image!”

Isley laughs, chest rumbling and a warmth _coiling_ its way around her heart. There was no doubt about it, in a few minutes she had grown undeniably _fond_ of this kid, the new _Robin_. Harleen and Selina would never let her live it down.

“Thanks Dr. Isley! I’ll talk to B-Man and sort something out! Just don’t go attacking anyone and I think he’d be okay with it!” A flutter of a cape and the click of a grabble gun and Isley is alone with her babies once again.

She smiles, pets a vine curling around her wrist. “He’s a cheeky sapling, isn’t he?”

Her babies agree and Isley knows she isn’t the _only_ fond one of the boy.


End file.
